


There is no such thing as luck

by tatch



Series: Fate for the Fateless [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel of Fate, Angel!Gabriel, Angst, Banter, Changing the course of fate is dangerous, Don't Try This At Home, Gabe's perfect sense of humour, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jack's inability to take care of himself, M/M, Not literally, Pain, SEP is hell, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 05:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11411682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: No matter what destiny he pieces together for the man, Jack Morrison will die.Gabriel is having none of that.Jack Morrison will live.





	1. This way or the highway

 

This one is not going to be easy, Gabriel thinks, weariness already showing in his posture, in the way his light curls under him, around him.

Weaving fates never is.

 

Sometimes it’s just influencing events just a bit so that happen one way instead of another. And sometimes, it’s destroying some lives to push someone else forward, making a person go through terrible events so that they’ll have the strength to survive the things that will come at them later.

It’s looking forward and seeing everything, making choices that will define the world for eras to come. To them, the weavers, angels of Fate, it’s working the span of a human lifetime without pause. Often, they barely have time to rest before their next charge is given to them. It’s exhaustion and never-ending focus. It’s working til you can’t think, then pushing yourself further. It’s calculating endless possibilities and weaving strings and fates so that everything slots together in the desired fashion.

And yet, Gabriel wouldn’t want anything else. He’s so good at it that he’s given all the important cases. Mortals that will make discoveries that will change the way the world down below works, humans whose place in history needs to be weaved in a very specific manner, people that define eras by their heroics.

World-changers, kings, heroes.

That’s his part to play in it all.

 

He leans to the side, his inner light subdued by the puzzle he’s been given this time.

This one won’t be born for a few years and normally, he would use most of that time to rest. But this guy’s fate always leads to death. Whatever Gabriel tries to weave, no matter how many people stand by his side, John ‘Jack’ Morrison is going to die before he can achieve what he is supposed to achieve.

And with his death, an era of darkness will start.

All strings start fraying as soon as they get in that darkness. It’s the kind of era that might have no end, the kind they’re supposed to avoid. Ever since that one time someone tried to push the limits of oxygen and life to the brink of sustainability, and the dinosaurs started dying all around, leading to an era of darkness and death that pushed them all into a frenzy of protecting whatever life was left on Earth, they’d all been very careful to avoid that kind of darkness and to look much further forward than just a couple years or decades into the future. Because if all fates vanish, then they too will vanish.

 

Gabriel’s light curls on his sides as he crosses his arms on his chest.

What is he supposed to do?

What can he do?

He doesn’t want to have to intervene in person.

Going down to Earth and taking on a human shape is something he abhors. He huffs, his wings bristling at the thought and tweaks around some more.

There _must_ be something else he can do.

 

But as the year that marks John ‘Jack’ Morrison’s birth approaches, he realizes there is nothing else that can be done. He’s going to have to go down there and keep his charge alive somehow.

Wonderful.

Actually getting a body is easy, calculating who he needs to be exactly, and how long he’ll have to stay down there, is another matter. Once his vessel is secured, he weaves a fate for himself. He can’t fully determine his own path, such is the nature of his kind, but he can guide himself to John ‘Jack’ Morrison’s side. Because once he will be down there, and for as long as he will be mortal, he will be cut off from other angels, and from his own memories and powers.

His light dims greatly at the thought.

Wingless, powerless, alone.

That’s not something he would wish on any angel.

Even their heaviest punishments are not that cruel.

Gabriel curls forward, his wings coming to encase him, brushing his sides and arms. He knows that his brothers and sisters will be there, making sure he’s safe. Not safe from mortal dangers, no, that would be against the way they do things. But they will be there to protect his powerless ass from dangers his mortal shape will be unable to detect (and will be absolutely unaware of). He knows that and yet.

He really wishes there was another way.

Anything to avoid having to walk the earth, dressed in flesh and mortality.

But there are no other way.

He looked.

He uncurls slowly, meeting the concerned gazes of his brethren. They know what he’s working on, what he has to do.

There are no secrets among them.

Gabriel gathers himself.

It’s not like he can change anything.

This is what needs to be done.

No point in delaying any further.

 

It’s not until he’s hovering over the mother that his nerves return.

She looks tiny, fragile in the way mortals do, lips parted, her brows furrowed as she huffs and puffs and tries to deliver a child that would have been born dead. The father’s presence is shifting close-by, not in the room per se but close enough that his nervous energy is slipping in and around the room. Gabriel knows that they won’t be a part of his mortal experience for long, the loss necessary to forge his mortal-self ability to take care of himself and others. A few of Gabriel’s brethren are there, supportive and silent, to make sure everything goes well. Gabriel’s light keeps flaring and dying down in rhythm, his stress showing.

Then the mother cries, muscles shaking and the child starts appearing, the life he weaved back into the empty shell slowly pulsating. Without a soul, it will soon die down. It’s hypnotizing, the slow beating of that life that waits for him. A hushed murmur as the mortals start slowly panicking when the empty husk remains unresponsive.

He can’t delay any longer.

He dives and curls inside the flesh.

 

It cold and cramped and dark and he hates it and pain oh pain as his wings fold away and he’s losing contact with his brothers and sisters and he cries and he sobs at the loss and his consciousness fades away like a sun setting over the horizon.

 

‘ _See me on the other side.’_

 

He screams.

 


	2. Everlastings

 

Gabriel bounces through the streets, a happy hum on his lips. 

He did well at school today. His ma will be proud. _Best grades of the school_ , the teacher had said. _I’ve never seen anything like it_ , he told his colleague when he had thought Gabe was too far to hear. He grins proudly at no-one and strolls through the park. 

They don’t live up on the hills where the rich gringos are, but this part of L.A is safe enough that his ma lets him come back from school on his own. Back in Dorado, where they were living before, she had always refused to leave him alone for long. Back then, he had been too small to understand but, now that he is big enough, he knows that she just wanted to protect him. That she wants him to grow up strong and proud and not live in fear of stepping into the wrong alley. 

He spots something on the ground and stops in his tracks. 

Is that a baby bird? 

Gabe picks it up carefully and looks for a nest. He finds it rapidly, in the hole of a tree trunk. The mama owl inside cracks an eye open when Gabe approaches. He deposits the baby owl, keeping an eye on it as it waddles back to the safety of the nest. 

 

Gabriel steps back and starts bouncing again, the hum now a cheery whistle. He comes out on the other side of the park and enters the street that leads to the dead end where his house is. 

There are a lot more people out in the street than there usually is at this hour. 

He spots Mrs Anders, the baker’s wife. She’s nice. She always gives him some of the bread that they couldn’t sell in the bakery because it looked too burned or wasn’t shaped right. He waves at her and hears her call his name as he rounds the corner. He has to get home before his ma gets worried though, so he just waves over his shoulder and keeps going. He’ll go see her later. His whistling dies down as he comes in view of his house. 

There are cars parked in front of his house. 

One of them is his pa’s. 

He’d come home early? 

Cool! 

But the others… Gabe has never seen any of them before. 

There are also a lot of people here. There shouldn’t be people here at this hour. There’s never anyone in their street at this hour. 

_ What’s going on?  _

He keeps strolling. One of the car has one of those emergency things they use to roll people to places when they’re sick. 

Is his ma sick? 

That would explain why is pa came back early. 

 

Gabe slips under the tape keeping all the people away and runs. He needs to know. 

Someone shouts, hands try to grab him. One manages to get ahold of his school bag but he shimmies out of the straps and runs into the house. More shouting, both from him, as he calls for his ma and his pa, and from the strangers outside, calls for someone to stop him. 

More people inside, that look up with confused expressions as he bounds into the house. 

_ Who are they!  _

He avoids them too and keeps running, looking for his parents, for an explanation. 

It’s not until he reaches his parents room, some of those strangers right on his heels, that he understands why they tried so hard to stop him.

 

They haven’t taken his pa down from the ceiling yet.

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel glares at Juan and the other members of the gang that fucking idiot brought with him. 

He’s younger than most of them, but the pain and the anger in his eyes more than make up for it. Hell, most of them are afraid of him, instead of the other way round. Most of those who aren’t afraid are respectful. They see something in the way he moves, the way he stills and looks at people, a promise in his gaze, something that makes them go quiet and respect his space. 

And then, there are a few, like Juan Torres, who keep on trying to see how far they can go before he breaks. 

He’s going to break something, alright and it won’t be pretty. He exhales sharply through his nose and looks at the poor kid Juan brought along. Though, ‘ _ dragged kicking and screaming and terrified _ ’ is probably more likely.

 

He knows him. The kid. 

Antonio is younger than him, and one of the few kids around the outskirts of Dorado whose parents made enough money to send their child to school. Gabriel had a deal going on with Antonio. Since his own abuelos don’t have the kind of money needed to send him to school, Antonio taught him as best he could, passed him textbooks and homework and assignments. In exchange, Gabriel made sure no-one bullied, harassed or kidnapped the kid on his way back from school. 

Because Antonio’s parents may have enough money to send their son to school, but they don’t make enough to afford protecting him on his way in and out. And there are lots of people lurking in dark alleys, or behind corners, to whom Antonio would make a perfect hostage (or a perfect punching ball). 

Gangs in need of money.

Jealous children. 

Angry and bitter teenagers. 

Drunks. 

Rapists. 

The list goes on.

 

“The fuck you want Torres. Don’t you have a papi to go please. Somewhere else preferably.” 

 

The glare Juan sends his way is venomous. Gabriel simply waits for him to do something stupid, an almost smirk quirking his lips. Suddenly, Torres lunges forward with a scream that could have been a battle-cry if it had not sound so pathetic. As is, it’s just a roar of ‘Reyeeeeeees!’ that goes high-pitched towards the end. 

Pathetic. 

Gabriel might be laughing if he weren’t busy avoiding a punch to his face. He sidesteps and only gets brushed by the kick to his ribs that follows. Juan has the advantage of size and age over him. 

But that’s not what worries Gabriel. 

What worries him is Juan’s ‘friends’.

Which. 

Haven’t moved an inch.

They look conflicted and more than a few are looking around like they’d rather be anywhere else. 

Well. That settles it then. 

Gabriel steps into the next punch, pulling on Juan’s arm to headbutt the guy with his own strength. Juan makes a choked sound and doubles over, his hands flying to his nose. Might have broken it. 

Whatever.

 

Gabriel glances at Juan’s ‘whatever those guys are supposed to be’. They still haven’t moved. The alarmed shout of ‘Reyes!’ comes just in time for Gabriel to see a flash of light, step away and only get slashed superficially. His hand moves to his lip, comes back down covered in blood. It hurts. He slips his tongue to press on the other side of the cut, all while keeping an eye on Juan, and feels the flesh part, wincing a bit at the pain that shoots through his face and jaw. 

_ Shit.  _

That’s probably gonna scar. His abuela is going to be so pissed. All that because Juan, that motherfucker, pulled a knife out in the middle of a scuffle. Asshole. But it means Gabriel can go all out on him. He grins slowly, a show of bared teeth that’s conveying how badly this is going to end.

 

“Show me what you got, chico.”

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel eyes the newbies. A whole new arrival of test subjects for the docs to poke and prod at. 

Wonderful. 

Not that there’s much he can say about it, since he was in their stead not two months ago. Has it only been two months? Fuck it had felt so much longer.

 

“Garcia!”

 

He tunes their commanding officer out again. He wonders if his unit ever looked that young, or that hopeful to the previous unit. He finds it hard to believe. Some of the newbies look like they’re barely legal, geez.

 

“Millers!”

 

Gabriel glances at what remains of his ‘unit’. There’s only ten of them left, when they’d been a hundred coming in. Casualties had been hard. What made it worse was knowing that they had not died on a battlefield, no. They had died bleeding and sick, laying helpless in hospital beds. The shit they were injected with was so toxic, most of them had not survived the second set of injections.

 

“Reyes!”

He looks ahead again, waiting.

“You’re in charge of Brown, Campbell, Diaz, Farees, Finnegan, Galen, Montoya, Morrison, Rivera and Smith. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

 

Ten of them. He’s in charge of ten of them. Each member of his unit is in charge of ten of them. 

Meaning there’s probably a hundred of those baby-faced soldiers with bright eyes and barely contained excitement. His mind wanders again. Was it what it had been like for the previous unit? No. There had been even less of them, only four or five standing where he is standing now, when his unit had arrived. And the last of that unit had died less than two weeks later. 

Experimental program yeah, that’s for sure. No wonder they’d had him sign papers that pretty much implied he was giving away his life to them. 

 

He blinks back to reality when the assigning comes to an end and the ones that have been assigned to him come over to him, waiting for his instructions. So eager. He doesn’t bother asking who’s who. Most of them will be dead by the end of next week anyway. 

Those that will remain won’t be soldiers anymore.

They will be survivors.

Just like his unit.

Just like him.

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon Indiana, stop bleeding all over me and get to the medbay already.”

 

“Dun like it there. ‘s too cold. You’re warm.”

 

Silence. A sigh. “At least stop digging your elbows into my ribs.”

 

“Ugh.” The man shuffles. Stills. Runs to the bathroom.

 

Here they go again.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jack Morrison, get your white bread Indiana ass back here, right the fuck now!”

 

Of course, Jack ignores him. This guy. Ugh! Some days, Gabriel wonders whether it would be worth it to just punch him unconscious and carry him back to camp. 

He has never seen someone that unable (or unwilling) to take care of himself. 

And the way he acts sometimes. The decisions he makes. 

Like right now. 

 

They were supposed to scout the area and report findings and enemy positions. 

_Scout_. JUST SCOUT. 

But Jack had seen something and before Gabriel could say anything, he was up and running. And that idiot ran fast. Gabriel was now left with no choice but to follow and cover his partner’s six. Not that it isn’t what he usually does already. But usually, they are in battle and Gabriel knows where the enemies are. Knows the land, because they had scouted it earlier on. But right now, they’re in unknown territory and Jack just dashed to have a look at some bright and sparkly thing probably. 

_ What is he, a puppy? _

 

Gabriel scowls, cursing his partner’s speed once more. Where the fuck is he now? 

 

He spots the enemies a split second after finding Jack. Gabriel has a grenade in hand, and has sent it flying toward the Omnics within the next three seconds. Fast enough that they can’t avoid it, not fast enough to avoid being shot.

 

“Get down!”

 

Jack follows his order, for once. 

About fucking time. 

Gabriel rolls to cover, a hand on his thigh, listening to the machines getting blown. 

_ Heh.  _

That’s a sound he’s never going to get tired of hearing.

 

“Gabe, you’re bleeding.”

 

Oh, of course. 

Now that Jack’s life is not the only one on the line, he gets worried. This idiot, seriously. Gabriel winces and removes his hand. Bullet to the thigh. He hopes it didn’t rupture anything important. Doesn’t look like it, if the way the flow of blood trickling from the wound, neither spurting nor overflowing, is any indication. It actually seems like it’s starting to slow down. Thank fuck SEP and their enhancements. 

 

“What did you think was going to happen, Jackie. Rushing like that in unknown enemy territory. You could have fallen into an ambush.”

 

Jack has the decency to look sheepish for about five seconds before he turns to sign for someone to come closer. Civilians? A group of kids approaches. They look absolutely terrified. Jack found survivors in the middle of a war zone. 

Scratch the puppy comment from earlier. He’s not a puppy, he’s a rescue dog. 

And now, Gabe is the one that has to get them all out of here. Without knowing how many enemies surround them, with a bullet in his thigh, with a partner that will be more worried about him and the kids than about his own ass and with children that might break down at any point and stop following them to run to the closest shelter they can find.

 

_ Wonderful. _

 


	3. Break your heart and set me free

 

Gabriel remembers. 

 

He looks at his hands, made of light and focus, of habit and muscle memory, in the shape of a body he no longer inhabits. Things didn’t go as planned, did they. 

Oh, he had kept Jack alive through the Crisis. 

There had been more than a few close calls but Gabriel had managed to keep that idiot alive, taking bullets in his stead more than once (Jack had a suicidal streak and a tendency to ignore orders, no wonder Gabriel had never been able to weave something to keep him alive through the whole Crisis. The guy had needed someone that could  _ bend fate _ to stay alive, how fucked was that.)

 

But then he’d had to go and fall in love with the man. 

He had to get frustrated and pissed at how things panned out. It wasn’t so much that he had ever had any intention of becoming the Strike-Commander, no (he knew what it entailed, and being stuck in an office, cooped-up and protected, unable to jump into action ever again was not something he ever wanted for himself.) He’d had no plans to become Strike-Commander, no will to walk in the light and be adulated, no desire for politics or power. He would have sabotaged himself rather than let something like that happen. No. 

What had irritated him was that the UN had gone behind his back, forcing the promotion on Jack. Jack had had no choice in the matter and yet, he’d still acted guilty, as if it was all his fault somehow. It had strained their relationship, the back and forth, this uncertainty, this guilt hovering in Jack’s eyes. No matter how many times Gabe had tried to explain that he’d never wanted the job in the first place, Jack still looked at him that way. 

It had poisoned what could have been between them. 

It had slowly pushed them apart. 

Gabriel had needed distance to not suffocate in the way Jack had buried himself in his work, trying to prove to someone (him? The world?) that he could do good with the honor that had been bestowed upon him. 

He had needed distance to not see the guilt that showed in his best friend’s eyes every time he looked at him. 

To not see the exhaustion, the dark circles that had seemingly become permanent under Jack’s eyes. 

To not witness the way the man he loved quietly with every inch of his being had slowly been killing himself, a smile still etched on his lips. 

 

It had led them here. 

Now. 

To those ruins Gabriel wafted through. 

To Gabriel’s and a hundred others deaths.

 

Gabriel shifts, his light seeping around, his wings slowly stretching back to their full span, no longer cramped and curled away. 

He looks down. 

To the charred pile of meat and coal that had been his body for the past fifty years. There isn’t much left. He’d been close, too close to the center of the explosion. Not quite on top of it, but in the room nonetheless, trying to stop them. He shifts again as the soft flutter of wings reaches him. His brethren are flying in, both them and the guides, the angels that guide lost souls to the Underworld. He can see them already, but he’s still too linked to his mortal body to be able to hear them. 

He’s not worried. 

The link will fade away soon. 

And then he’ll be able to return to taking care of Jack from the comfortable distance of the skies. 

His heart wrenches at the thought and his eyes search for the tired, hunched, familiar form. He needs to see him. His light dims slightly. 

Where is Jack? 

He reaches for the fate of his charge, discarding all the frayed fates surrounding him. 

 

Jack’s thread is _frayed._

 

Not fraying, like a few he can see lying around, struggling for life, but actually frayed. 

 

Finished. 

Dead. 

 

No no no  _ no _ . 

Jack can’t be dead. 

 

His light pulsates in anguish as he pulls himself as fast as he can toward the place the thread emanates from. 

 

Blind eyes greet him. 

The chest is open torn on one side, a large metal beam having flown in and lodged itself in his side, almost tearing him in two. 

There’s so much blood. 

 

_ Oh Jack _ . 

 

He sags a bit, his wings curling around him, his light dimming drastically. He’d hoped- 

Slowly, he looks forward, reaching for the future. It’s harder than it should be, his link to his mortal body impeding him, making him slow and sluggish. Nevertheless, he reaches forward. And curls further on himself. The era of darkness still looms ahead. It has been delayed some, yes, but it’s still there. It hasn’t changed. An ‘extinction of all life’ type of era. 

All of this, for nothing. 

Jack hadn’t had time to do what he was supposed to do. Gabriel looks at the beloved face, at the open wounds marking it, at the soul slowly exiting Jack’s body. He uncurls slowly, resolve shining across him.

There is a way of fixing this. 

All that Jack needs is more time. 

He can give him that. 

He can bring Jack back.

 

He reaches and gently cradles the slowly darkening soul in his hands. Jack’s soul reacts to him, shining brightly again. Good. It’ll make things easier. His light plunges inside the body, gripping the remaining thread of Jack’s fate. He follows it back. Rewinds. Until he reaches the moment when the beam hit Jack. He reaches a bit further. 

He can feel himself overheating. He’s probably lighting up the place in ways that aren’t normally visible to mortals. (Not that he cares.) This is not something he is supposed to do. He is a bender of fates, it is his job, his life, what his whole existence hinges on. He weaves fates. But this. This is no fate-bending. This is going against a set fact, turning something that already happened around. This is going against fate. Going against what he exists for. It’s probably going to kill him, he muses. Snuff his light out. Let his glimmer fade to the winds. 

 

He can’t find it in himself to care. 

 

If that is the price to pay for Jack to live, so be it. 

 

Distantly, he is aware of the gazes of his brethren, concerned. They won’t stop him though. He is still mortal enough that they can’t intervene. And even if he wasn’t, they wouldn’t. Jack is his charge, and no-one else’s. That’s not what distracted him though. There’s… someone else.  Watching. He can feel their presence. A mortal? Probably one of the survivors around that are slowly dying. 

He ignores it, focuses on his task. 

This is going to hurt. 

He bends the beam’s trajectory just enough that it won’t impale Jack. It will still hit him, Jack will still be injured but it won’t be deadly. He follows the event, the way Jack stumbles and gasps. The shrapnel from the impact flies to his face and shoulders, giving him long slashed wounds.

He falls to the side, a hand on his side, breathing heavily. 

 

But. 

Jack is alive. 

 

Gabriel slowly untangles his light from Jack’s thread. 

Something is building up inside him. He feels drained, weak. But somehow, he’s still alive. Well not alive, per se, but he hasn’t vanished into nothingness. 

He looks up and meets Angela Ziegler’s gaze. Her lips are parted and she’s looking straight at him. She saw him. Saw his light. She shouldn’t have been able to. How had she been able to? The overheating. 

_Shit._

Her eyes roll into her skull and she passes out. _Heh_. The true light of an angel isn’t made for mortals to witness. Only those with angelic ancestors can see it without consequences. Too bad for her. She doesn’t seem dead though. Not like he cares anyway. 

Jack moves. There’s anguish on his face, mixed with pain. Well, the man just lost the work of his life. If he felt guilty before, how must he be feeling now. But apparently that’s not what’s on Jack’s mind at the moment. He stumbles forward, hand still on his side and whispers. 

 

“Gabe...”

 

_ Oh. _

 

_ No, Jack, buddy, don’t do that to yourself. _

 

_ I don’t think you want to see me right now. I look like an overcooked barbeque. _

 

Gabriel would chuckle if he still had a body, or a way to make sounds. As it is, his awesome sense of humor remains hidden from all. Jack moves forward, and, well, Gabriel is in his path. Not that it matters, since he no longer has a solid body. And he is too exhausted to move anyway.

 

Jack comes in contact with his intangible self.

 

Gabriel shatters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go have a look at [the wonderful art Tomo did!](https://tomodraws.tumblr.com/post/162689253516/and-here-we-go-my-part-for-the-reaper76bigbang) (It's so pretty, I'm screaming at how pretty it is)


	4. From chrysalis to butterfly

 

Awakening is … unpleasant to say the least.

Everything is so dark.

Everything hurts.

 

He feels crushed on all sides and, yeah no, it’s not a pleasant feeling. Gabriel stirs, trying to not feel so utterly crushed and-

 

Hang the fuck on.

How can he feel crushed? How is he even alive?

He distinctly remember shattering to a million pieces.

How did he survive that. What the fuck happened? Fuck, where is he?

 

He focuses on feeling past the crushing impression. He doesn’t feel cramped. Not a body then?

But he’s not flowing freely either. And he remembers his non-mortal existence.

Ugh.

He hates not knowing.

Hates feeling so helpless.

He wants to move and shout and punch someone while he’s at it. If he doesn’t have limbs, how is he supposed to move.

 

It takes him way too long to realize that even though he is apparently linked to the mortal plane still, this body of his kind of flows the way his ethereal form does. Without the wings.

He slithers out of … the ground?

What was he doing in the ground.

What is he doing in a forest.

 

He turns and loses himself for a moment, reforming after a minute or two. Or twenty.

He doesn’t know.

He feels so weak.

Shit, why is keeping this body he ended up with together asking for so much focus.

 

And he has no real form. He’s just a swirling mass of…

Of what exactly.

It kinda hard to tell.

 

He can tell that his sense are from his angelic body. He takes a better look at himself. He’s just… coal … and charred bones… and charcoal .. and smoke cobbled up together apparently. He feels around the edges. He is linked to this, whatever this is. It might be what was left of this body then. But that doesn’t explain the whole swirling mass of _whatever_. Or why he’s stuck in it.

 

C’mon Reyes, focus.

But it’s kind of hard to focus on anything when he’s mentally sweating to not fall apart the next second.

 

There is … something. There. Near where he emerged from. Now if he could just get his body to move over there.

No, not turn into a useless puddle of smokey what the fuck.

Ugh.

This...whatever the hell his body is now, seems to want to spread. Horizontally. As if he was liquid. But he can feel that he’s not. He feels like he’s made of … smoke? Heavier than air smoke, but still.

Smoke.

 

He’s used to being light, and he’s used to being flesh and bones.

But smoke?  

How does smoke even move. He doesn’t know. He needs to figure it out. Until then… everything will be exhausting and will ask for a huge part of his focus.

Great.

Just great.

 

He crawls and slithers, without hands or arms or a body of any kind.

It’s draining and it takes him soooooo long to cross the few feet that separate him from his destination.

Finally, finally, he’s near the thing.

It’s some sort of plank, a huge bit of bark maybe. Someone wrote, well more like, scribbled on it.

 

**‘A true hero lies here**

**May he find in death**

**the peace he deserved in his life’**

 

This.

This is so fucking cheesy.

 

Who wrote this.

Oh scratch that, he knows exactly who wrote it.

Jack.

Jack ‘Boyscout’ Morrison.

His favorite most idiotic farm-boy must have found his charred carcass, dragged him (or carried him, it’s not like Gabriel knows what really happened), buried him and then put the cheesiest grave marker possible on his best friend’s grave.

Because this, this is his grave.

 

_Jack, you didn’t have to, you idiot._

_They would have buried me anyway._

 

Where has the man gone to, by the way. There’s no sign of him anywhere.

Gabriel looks at the grave.

At the trees and the grass.

 

How long has he been in there.

Last time he checked, it was winter, not spring or summer.

_Shit._

How long has passed.

_Where the fuck is Jack._

 

He reaches for the thread of Jack’s fate.

But there’s nothing.

He stills.

Tries to look into the future.

Still nothing.

 

Well, this is fucking perfect. He’s too weak to move physically and apparently too earth-bound to be able to take care of his charge. He can’t even find him.

Amazing.

Gabriel groans and stops once more. Well, he can make sounds again, that’s something.

 

First things first. Take stock.

He has no access to his powers, to fates, the future or his brethren.

He’s stranded on Earth, linked to a smoke cloud that seems to have formed from the remnants of his mortal body.

Jack Morrison, his golden boy, is God knows fuck where, probably wallowing in guilt and indulging himself in his suicidal tendencies and terrible self care routines.

 

Ugh.

 

Had Jack started smoking again? He probably had.

Was he even eating. Probably not.

What a fucking pain.

 

Gabriel grumbles unhappily.

He can’t take care of Jack at the moment. No matter how much he wants to. He needs to get used to this new shape of his first. He needs to be able to interact with things again. To be able to move for fuck’s sake. Having an actual shape that isn’t a useless puddle would be nice too. He won’t be able to help Jack in any way with how weak and useless he is now.

Better get to it then.

He crawls and slides until he finds a small cave.

There are signs of someone having been here, but they’re faded, almost gone.

Maybe Jack passed through here, patched himself up.

Maybe it had been someone else entirely.

Either way, it will do. He settles in and gets to work, losing track of time.

 


	5. (dead bodies are buried) Under the cherry trees

 

Gabriel doesn’t know how long has passed exactly since he holed up in that cave, but there’s snow outside when he emerges.

Fresh snow, and the grass underneath is still green. Probably the first snows. Beginning of winter. It hasn’t quite been a year yet since he died then.

 

He stretches and looks at himself. From what he can tell, he has managed to condense back into a mostly solid form. He has arms and hands, legs and feet, a chest, a back. He’s shaped to look like he used to. Boots on, gloves on, hoodie up to hide his face (can’t let someone recognize him, Gabriel Reyes is dead after all), he’s ready for battle. Or more accurately, to find Jack and nudge him onto the right path.

But first, he needs to find the guy.

And he won’t find him with his currently non-existent powers.

Back to earthly methods then. He needs intel.

 

He starts walking in the direction in which the closest town should be, if he is where he thinks he is.

 

It will take hours to get there.

But Gabriel’s new body doesn’t tire.

Doesn’t hunger.

Doesn’t sleep.

 

_Is this what it feels like for Omnics?_

 

He doesn’t know.

Doesn’t actually care.

 

But the trek there is long and past some point, Gabriel’s mind wanders. The more he walks, the easier moving is. The longer he holds his shape, the lesser the strain on his mind. It’s no surprise that once all the things that had recently been keeping him occupied fade back into habits and ‘muscle’ memory, his thoughts start wandering here and there.

He wonders how Jack is doing.

 

_Did that idiot manage to die again?_

 

He sure hopes not. Just thinking of Jack lying dead in a ditch somewhere while Gabriel was trying to get himself back together has him leak smoke all around. Funny enough, said leaked smoke slithers back to his feet, returning to him once it reaches a certain distance. Like he’s the only gravity it will be affected by.

He tests how far it will stretch and blinks back to reality standing where he’d been looking.

What.

Did he…

He tries again.

Stretches himself while looking far away.

And blinks back to consciousness to being there.

That’s handy.

Teleporting.

Kind of.

 

Pretty cool.

He grins. The rest of the road goes so much faster.

 

 

The town is small, almost rural and it’s late enough that there’s little to no-one in the streets. Late enough that Gabriel barely has time to slip into the corner store to grab newspapers before the shopkeeper heads his way to pester him into leaving. He turns to tell the man to shut it, but before he has any chance to do so, the elder man pales, takes a step back and passes out.

What. What in _the fuck._

Gabriel looks around but except for himself, there’s nothing out of the ordinary in the shop. Did the guy recognize him? That would explain the whole thing. He checks the man’s pulse then moves to one of the windows to get a look at himself. Maybe his hood isn’t covering his face enough. It’s not like he’d had any chance to check himself out while in the cave. At least not beyond the point of torso and limbs and human looking shape.

He squints.

His face isn’t visible.

What was the problem the-

Gabriel leans forward, exposing his face to the closest light.

Still nothing.

Nothing but swirling darkness.

He slips a hand in, feeling for the edges of his face.

It’s there … and yet … he can’t see it.

Uh.

Oh.

Well.

 

No wonder that pesky guy had passed out.

Gabriel sighs. He takes one copy of each newspaper he can find and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Since he has no face, well not one that can be seen anyway, he can’t check into an inn like he’d planned to. It also means that interacting with people will need to be planned. He can work around this. As long as he stays hooded and in the shadows, it should be fine. He huffs.

What a pain. Where can he go then.

He looks around then stills.

_Wait._

Stretches himself aand… yup, lands on a rooftop. Nice.

He looks around him for one that would offer a bit of shelter and stretches over there once he has found one. It should protect him if it rains or snows. He doesn’t know whether his body can feel heat or cold but he doesn’t feel like finding out. At least, not tonight.

Gabriel sits and starts catching up.

 

Criminality on the rise. Gangs appearing left and right. Terrorists roaming free and meeting no real resistance. A museum to be built to commemorate Over- what. He stares at the article.

**“The construction of the building that will hold the permanent exposition commemorating the three decades of service of the peacekeeping organization, Overwatch, is to debut next year in the city-state of Numbani. Following the implementation of the Petras Act earlier this year, Overwatch was disbanded. Many still mourn those who were lost to the Zurich Incident and...”**

 

Overwatch disbanded. That, he had expected. It had been looming over the horizon ever since the public had found out about Blackwatch. And after Zurich...

The Petras Act put in place. Without Jack, Ana or him to prevent those from being signed… Of course, Petras had managed to finally get what he wanted: Overwatch on a leash. Or, as it seemed to be, disbanded. Gabriel wondered what the Petras Act final version entailed exactly. Without anyone to oppose Petras, the asshole might have added everything and nothing to the Act. Gabriel huffs. Great. Just great. Now he has absolutely no idea as to where Jack might be. Motherfucking great.

 

_Jack, fuck, where are you?_

 

His mind shifts sideways and then he is … somewhere else, staring down at blue eyes that seem confused then widen at the sight of him, lips parting, a single, reverent, whisper passing through them.

“Gabe...”

A hand reaches for him.

 

And Gabriel blinks back to his body, the newspaper in his hand crumpled beyond recognition. What was that?

He looks at his hands, black and smoky. He’s shaking a bit.

How had he done that.

He had … found Jack?

But his body had stayed here.

He passes a hand on his face.

 

What if-

What if he was still able to project his light to places?

As an ethereal being, he could send his mind somewhere and then pull his light to follow. It had kind of felt like that. It explained that his body had remained where it was, while his consciousness went somewhere else. If it was anything like that, it meant he could probably pull his body to him with enough practice. He wasn’t sure it would work. Pulling a shape of light was very different from pulling smoke and coal across god knows how much distance.

Gabriel shifts a bit and settles more comfortably.

There’s no way of knowing unless he tries again.

He focuses, eyes closed, brows furrowed.

Waits.

 

Reopens his eyes.

He’s still on the roof.

_Fuck._

What had he done exactly to get his mind to cross space and reach Jack.

He had been frustrated and had wanted to find Jack above all else.

The only thing in his mind had been Jack.

Oh. Well.

That shouldn’t be too hard to reproduce.

 

All he has to do is think of how tired that idiot had seemed. Of the cigarette he’d seen in his hands. Of the pale face, the sunken eyes, the soft hair that had finally finished turning white. Of the scars, pink and raised and angry on his golden boy’s face.

And there he goes.

 

Wherever he had been earlier, Jack is no longer in that place. He is down there, hiding in a doorway. Gabriel blinks, glances around. The first lights of dawn are starting to show over the horizon. The cherry trees haven’t blossomed yet but the first flowers have started burgeoning.

Is this Hanamura?

 

_Jack, what the hell are you doing in Japan?_

 

Gabriel sighs and sits on the rooftop he landed on. Can it be called landing even though he doesn’t have a body at the moment? It’s kind of funny though. His body is sitting on a rooftop halfway across the world and now, his mind is too.

He chuckles.

Feels himself slip sideways.

Shit, right.

Jack.

His sense of things stabilizes again.

 

Jack is waiting in that doorway, pulse rifle in his hands, wearing some sort of ridiculous get-up. Gabriel looks a bit further down the street.

There are a few people, probably from the Shimada clan, hanging around. Gang would be more fitting than clan but hey, it used to be a family business. Before Genji’s brother, Hanzo Shimada, cut his brother down, leaving him for dead. Liao had found the kid and managed to keep him alive long enough for a Blackwatch transporter to come get him. Genji had been saved, offered a deal (which he had accepted) and had started working under Gabriel’s command as soon as he had recovered, both physically and mentally. As for his older brother, he had disappeared without a trace shortly after Genji’s ‘death’. To this day, Gabriel had no idea what had pushed the older brother to vanish. If he had vanished. He might be dead, or held prisoner somewhere. It had not changed anything. The Shimada clan had still indulged in their criminal activities and Blackwatch had still needed to put an end to it. The only one that had been frustrated by Hanzo Shimada’s disappearance had been Genji. He had become more aggressive and Gabriel had had to bench him until the kid got his feelings under wraps again.

 

Anyway.

Gabriel eyes the gang members strolling around. _Don’t they fear being caught-_

Oh. _Right._

Duh.

No Overwatch.

No Blackwatch.

They’re strolling free, uncaring of who might see them, because they have no-one to hide from.

 

_Such a wonderful world you allowed with your stupid Act, Petras._

_I hope you die painfully, you sad sack of trash._

 

A van is approaching.

It parks near the doors, waiting for them to open. Jack shifts. _Is he-_

Jack bolts, opening fire on the gang members. Too complacent, too relaxed, half of them are on the ground, bleeding, before one of them finally shouts and they start firing back. Of course, they’re no match for a super soldier, even less one used to Bastions reaction speed. Humans are so slow. Jack is already getting around from the left and they’re still shooting where the first shots came from. The sound of Helix rockets being fired sounds through the air and the van explodes. It pretty much cuts the fight short. Jack punches or uses the butt of his rifle to drop the goons still conscious (and alive) and stops for a moment to eye his handiwork.

 

A vigilante.

Jack has become a vigilante.

Gabriel would be proud if he wasn’t so worried.

Why had his farm-boy from Indiana not returned to their friends. Why was he here, alone, doing a job that wasn’t his. Jack turns and starts walking back down the street in Gabriel’s direction. Gabriel waits, wondering how long it will take for Jack to notice him. Good thing he’s him and not a sniper, because Jack would be three times dead by now. Jack suddenly stops and his rifle aim at Gabriel who snorts softly.

About time.

The rifle falls down within the second and Jack is running, no doubt trying to get to Gabriel before he can vanish again.

So eager. It’s cute, in a way.

 

_Relax, Jack. I’m not going anywhere._

 

Heavy footsteps on the roof nearby. Gabriel turns his head slightly, to get a better view of the man. Jack’s face is hidden by some sort of ridiculous mask but the grip on his rifle, tells him that seeing Gabriel is doing things to Jack’s emotions. He is standing just out of reach, telltale aborted movements of his legs telling Gabriel how much Jack only wants to lunge at him and never let go, barely keeping himself in check. There’s a long moment during which Jack just looks at him.

Gabriel is starting to hate that mask. It covers his boy-scout’s face entirely and looks so obnoxious.

Then, Jack sighs and sits where he was standing and pulls off the mask. He must be thinking that trying to touch Gabriel will have him disappear again.

Maybe it would.

Maybe not.

Either way, Gabriel is grateful that Jack is not trying to touch him.

Not because he doesn’t want to. (God if he could, he would have Jack pinned under him, and he wouldn’t let go for a while. A long long while.)

But Gabriel still remembers with painful clarity what had happened the last time.

Yeah, he doesn’t feel like experiencing that again, on the off chance that it might not do anything now that he has a body again.

 

“Can’t believe I’ve reached a state of missing you so much it’s making me hallucinate.”

_What. Jack. Are you saying you think I’m an hallucination._

 

Gabriel snorts.

Jack smiles half-heartedly, resting his cheek on his knees, his gaze trained on Gabriel.

He looks both desperate and hungry to take as much of him in as he can.

 

“I’m such a coward.”

_Jack, if you start insulting yourself, I will punch you, consequences be damned._

 

“I had planned to come visit you, you know. But I can’t- I can’t go back there. Not yet. Not until ...”

_Not until what?_

 

But Jack remains silent, looking at the sun that is slowly rising over the horizon. Birds start singing.

Gabriel almost doesn’t catch it, the next thing Jack says, his own mind relaxed and reveling in the quiet.

 

“I always thought there would be time to tell you later. Later, I kept telling myself. You can tell him later. And now look at me.”

_Oh, Jack._

 

“I’m so fucked up, so broken over losing you that I’m confessing my feelings to an hallucination of the man I’ve loved for the past twenty years.” He laughs, and fuck if that sound doesn’t break Gabriel’s heart all over again, with how jagged and crushed it sounds.

 

Jack shakes, pulling his knees close to his chest and buries his face in them, his hands coming to tug at the hair on the back of his head in a grip that looks painful. Gabriel’s hand twitch with the need to soothe Jack’s pain. Before he knows it, his mind has him right next to the man, just shy of touching him.

“I love you too, dumbass.”

He has the time to catch Jack’s jerky move to look at him before the pain blinds him.

He falls.

 

_Shit, what now._

 

The landing back into his body is painful, even though the smokey edges of it soothe some of the pain away.

Something's not right. The feeling permeates the air around him.

What happened.

Ugh...

He feels…

It’s not over yet, is it.

 

The backlash slings him further away.

He’s falling, flying. Everything, everywhere passes in a rush before his senses, fast, so fast. He feels sick.

Gabriel is pretty sure he’d be throwing up if he still had a stomach.

Does he? He doesn’t think so.

 

Something pulls him out of free-falling to nowhere.

Things stops moving.

He doesn’t feel nauseous anymore but everything keeps tilting sideways.

He is slumped against a wall, in a street that is … somewhat familiar?

 

Fuck. Where is he?

 

He can tell he no longer is in the small town he was in, that much is sure. But the rest… He tries to squint and get a better look at things surrounding him. It’s nighttime here too. The houses are small, cozy, one to two floors. There’s a big … luminous ... shape … over there.

Is that … a pyramid?

Did he land in Dorado of all places?

_Ugh._

No wonder the place seems familiar.

 

He needs to find a place to rest.

Not sleep, no, he doesn’t do that.

But pain is throbbing at his temples and keeping himself all shaped up is very hard right now.

 

Closest house’s ground floor is lit up but one of the first floor’s windows is open, and that floor is dark and quiet. It will do.

He stretches himself and crash-lands to the ground inside.

He got in, cool.

But the nausea is back, not cool.

Gabriel grunts and lets go of the mental hold he has on his form.

He is too exhausted and in too much pain to deal with anything.

 

Tomorrow can fucking wait while he takes a mental nap.

 


	6. The price to pay (is breaking me to pieces)

 

“Hey, amigo, you look like crap.”

 

Gabriel emerges from the meditative state his mind had fallen into.

_Meditative, ah!_

Pretty word to say he’d blanked out and decided to not be home until he was longer hurting and feeling like someone had stuck his head into a blender. He cracks an eye open to find himself in a couch of some sort. His body condensed back into a vaguely human shape.

He’s leaking smoke everywhere.

Ugh.

There’s a plaid on him. He almost feels warm, for the first time since he woke up and crawled out of that grave of his. He grunts, shifts to settle more comfortably under the covers.

 

“Thanks.”

“Seriously?”

“At least, I look like _something_ , chica.”

 

The voice is indeed feminine and coming from somewhere on his right, right beyond the edge of his field of view. He doesn’t feel like moving to see her. _Yet_. And she covered him in a blanket. She could have thrown him into the streets, but no, she put him in her couch and covered him. He checks himself slowly. He still feels weak, but he no longer is in pain. That’s an improvement.

 

A face and a body appear on his right with the sound of a chair being rolled around. She is small, seems to be of latino origins, and apparently has an unending love of purple and pink.

Because fuck, her clothes are purple, her hair is purple, the ceiling, the ground, the walls, even her eyes are purple.

He groans.

 

“You’re leaking all over my floor.” She states conversationally, looking at her nails like Gabriel isn’t worth her time.

“Really.”

“ _Really._ ”

 

He pulls himself together more, returns to his shape of Gabriel Reyes instead of a humanoid lump of smoke. She looks conflicted now, like she wants to say two things at the same time but isn’t sure which to say first. Gabriel flexes his fingers, silently looking at her as he then rolls his shoulders. Not that he needs to. He no longer has muscles after all, but the habit feels comfortable. Like wearing an old hoodie, worn and stretched and softened by time and use.

 

“You one of those reapers?”

_What._

“Listen, amigo, you can’t take my soul yet, I got things to do. There’s this conspiracy and everything is linked. No-one knows, of course, because people are soooo dumb. But I know. Just need some time to piece things together and-” She stops all of a sudden. “But you don’t care one bit, do you. If you’re here for me, nothing I say will make you back off.” She leans dramatically back into her chair with a heavy sigh. She looks so defeated all of a sudden. “Just fucking get on with it already.”

 

Does she- Is she thinking he’s a guide? Did he get that right?

 

“You can see my light.”

 

“Not when you’re all smokey, but yes. If you ... condense like that, yes, I can.”

 

Gabriel hums. Of all the people that could have found him, it had to be one with angelic ancestors.

Just his luck.

Not that luck has anything to do with it.

He knows better.

One of his brethren probably weaved possibilities together for this encounter to happen.

Meaning he is supposed to meet her.

He sighs.

 

“Not here for you, kid. I’m not one of those ‘reapers’ as you say.” He makes heavy quotes marks in the air.

 

She seems perplexed.

“You’re not a reaper.”

“No.”

“But you shine.” She squints. “Wait. You’re … golden. Not white.”

“Yeah.”

“Wha- Who are you?”

 

Gabriel doesn’t answer.

“You said something about a conspiracy.”

She doesn’t seem happy but she drops the subject. For now, at least. She explains that there’s someone pulling all the strings from the shadows.

The Crisis.

Zurich.

Overwatch’s fall.

The rise in criminal activities.

Terrorist organizations having more funds than they should have ever had access too.

All that because that person. Organization. AI.

She doesn’t know for sure yet.

 

Some of what she says links back to some of his own intel. It’s a bit outdated, of course, but he had started to have doubts about some of the things they were told to do. But before Gabriel could investigate, everything had exploded. If that person believes him and Jack are dead, then they’re safe. But with Jack playing vigilante on the other side of the globe, it’s only a matter of time before he attracts unwanted attention.

Looks like he’s going to have to save Jack’s ass again.

 

“You got any lead?”

She bites her lip, looks sideways then right back to him, expression fierce, like she made a decision.

“Why do you dress like Papi Gabriel?”

_Papi-_

“I would remember having a daughter.”

 

“That’s not-”

“I dress like Gabriel Reyes because I _am_ Gabriel Reyes.”

A silence.

“So you didn’t die in Zurich.”

 

He bursts out laughing.

“Ah! I died alright. Guess I’m just too stubborn to stay dead.”

 

He shakes his head, a smile still clinging to his lips. It’s not the truth but it’s not a lie either.

He doesn’t know how he survived shattering the way he had.

He doesn’t know _why_ he’s trapped on Earth now, or why he still remember who he is but has little to none of his powers.

It’s a long string of questions and he has none of the answers so far.

 

“Talon.”

“Talon?”

“Whoever is behind everything has their arms into Talon down to the elbows. Everything they do is ordered by that person. I can’t trace back the orders but Talon is the easiest way to get close to that guy.” She waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “Or whatever the fuck they are.”

“I’m in.”

“Old man..”

“If you’re going, I’m going. You think I’m going to let some kid take down whoever ordered my death?” Gabriel snorts.

She just scoffs.

 

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know.”

“Can’t keep on calling you kid or chica forever.”

“… Sombra.”

“That can’t be your real name.”

“No-one can prove it’s not.”

 

Gabriel is starting to really like her. It’s a weird feeling, this unexpected fondness. He hasn’t felt it since the first time Jesse called him dad in the middle of training and had then turned beet red. He hopes the kid is doing okay.

He hasn’t had news since Jesse left Blackwatch after telling him that something wasn’t right.

And yeah, then Gabriel had died.

 

“Fair enough.”

Sombra grins and spins on her chair.

“What’s your plan?”

“I was going to offer my services as a mercenary but...” She should looks him up and down with a wince. “Can’t do that with you looking like that.”

“Like what.”

“Like Gabriel Reyes. First, you’re supposed to be dead. And second, no terrorist organization would employ you, because you’re you.”

She’s got a point.

“But before that, you need weapons?”

 

His shotguns probably burned in the fire. _Fuck_.

 

“Yes.”

“And a mercenary name.”

He thinks about it for a second then grins.

“Reaper.”

“ _Seriously_.”

“Yep.”

 

Sombra has an endless list of questions..

What is his body made of.

What are the limitations.

How does he condense.

How did he survive.

 

As soon as she learns that he can do things humans can’t do, she wants to test his limits.

She sets obstacle courses, tries to push him further.

The constant challenging of his abilities keeps him sharp.

 

Days pass by, faster than Gabriel expected them to. Everyday, he tries to have a look at how Jack is holding up. The man smiles sadly whenever he spots him, then returns to what he was doing. Sometimes, if Gabriel stays around longer than usual, Jack talks a bit, about everything and nothing. Gabriel cherishes those little bits of time. They always end way too soon to his taste but if that’s what needs to be done to get his revenge, to keep Jack safe, then that’s how it will be.

 

Soon enough, he has guns again, shotguns that seem build to have the same kind of firepower than his own had. He doesn’t know how Sombra got those. His shotguns are not made for non-enhanced people to handle. Meaning there’s only one person alive on earth that could use one of these guns. And the man only uses his giant ass pulse rifle. (Gabe doesn’t count himself, he is after all dead.) As soon as he tries using his new guns though, a new problem arise. His body, or more precisely his arms, can’t handle the recoil, and dissolve from the impact. That’s problematic.

Sombra asks more questions about how his body works then wants to know where his body was buried.

 

“Why the hell do you want to know that?”

“You said you smoked out of your grave, right? But Gabe, what if you left part of your body in there? That would explain why you’re so … fragile.”

He doesn’t like the idea but she might be right. He isn’t one hundred percent sure of where his grave is, so they take the time for him to send his mind and find it. Then locate where it is exactly. As soon as he knows, she sends for someone to take the whole thing out and bring it back home, saying something about one of her ancestors being buried there in Europe and how she wants him to rest in peace back home. Gabriel can’t help but burst out laughing as soon as her call is over. Oh, she really is something, this one.

While they wait, he designs an outfit for her.

Something that will both be stylish and will keep her out of trouble.

State of the art technology, since he knows she can both buy it and handle it.

 

The grave is delivered rapidly, a big crate filled with dirt and grass. The grave marker lies on top of it all. Sombra takes it in her hand and frowns, muttering questioningly at who the fuck would even write something like that.

Meanwhile, Gabriel dives into the much softer than when he smoked out of it dirt.

His body meets something hard.

That sucks him in.

 

He emerges a minute or so later, clawing his way out like a zombie from an horror movie. The charred remain had indeed stayed in the ground. He can feel the burned and decaying flesh break down and turn into smoke and bits. He steps out of the crate and meets the disbelieving look that Sombra sends his way.

_What._

He looks down at himself and sees blue.

_What in the fuck-_

It’s long and blue and floats a bit and _Morrison, why the fuck did you bury me in your coat._

Seriously.

That guy.

The coat breaks down into his form before he can take it off. Shit. Sombra raises both brows in a mix of surprise and appraisal.

“Guess that takes care of hiding your identity, old man. All you still need is a mask to take care of that black mess you call a face.”

He flips her off.

She laughs.

 

Jack’s coat melted and mixed with the rest of his shape and now, Gabriel looks like he is wearing a long coat with a hood.

He kinda likes it.

Sombra informs him that the gauntlets and boots he designed and ordered have also arrived.

Now they just need to check whether he can fight with this improved body and then, they should be set to start on the mission.

 

This ‘new’ body is much easier to keep together. It stays solid, can take hits, can hit, punch, kick, jump and execute pretty much each and every move Gabriel had been able to do when he was still alive. After being so weak for so long, having a highly functioning and easy to take care of body feels very good.

He still doesn’t sleep or tire or eat, but that just makes him more efficient, he tells himself.

And if some days, the smell of the morning pancakes he makes for Sombra makes him ache inside, well, that’s his problem and no-one else’s.

What matters is that they are ready to move onto the next phase.

 

Days turn into weeks that turn into months.

They fulfill contract after contract, rapidly working around the few edges they encounter while working together.

Sombra hates being bossed around and Gabriel has been commanding people around for thirty years.

Gabriel becomes extremely serious when working, a remainder of times when the smallest mistake or moment of inattention could cost his team their lives and Sombra likes to play around, to sass and tease. They fight a bit over this and that, but the fights never last.

 

Jack has gone from drinking in his presence to ignoring him as much as he can.

It … hurts.

He understands why his favorite Indiana farm-boy is doing that, but it hurts anyway.

Gabriel starts spacing his visits more and more, dropping them entirely after a while. It’s only making him depressed. He still keeps an eye on the man but he does it from a distance, making sure that Jack never sees him.

Logically, he knows he lost the man, or any right to him, when he died.

Not that he had any before that.

But.

It still hurts.

 

 

One day, Sombra suddenly hugs him and starts laughing. He waits for her to explain and she shows him the offer she received from Talon.

They’re in.

All they have to do now is show up for the drop ship to come get them at the given coordinates. There are a lot of conditions that they have to follow but everything should work according to plan. Everything worked according to plan up until now.

 

 

The dropship is a black, sleek, almost silent beauty. Gabriel wants it to be his. Sombra whistles in appreciation as it delicately lands nearby.

 

“I love it.”

“I want it.”

She grins at him.

“I’ll get you one for your birthday.”

He chuckles in answer. He hasn’t celebrated his birthday ever since he died. And they both know it.

 

Two years and a half after he died in Zurich, Gabriel starts working for Talon.

 

_Geez, Jack._

_The things I do to keep you safe._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the working title for this was 'An introduction to pain' :D
> 
> Come talk to me [on my tumblr ](http://t-a-t-c-h.tumblr.com)


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